


Guardian Angel Therapy

by SailorChibi



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Age Play, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Not Hunters, Angel!Castiel, Carrying, Comforting, Cribs, Crying, Dean Needs A Hug, Dean Winchester Feels, Dean's Soul, Diapers, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Engineer Dean, Gen, Grace - Freeform, Guardian Angels, Hurt/Comfort, Infantilism, Non-Sexual Age Play, Platonic Cuddling, Protective Castiel, Therapy, Zachariah Being a Dick, alternate universe - age play, angel!anna - Freeform, baby!dean - Freeform, bottles, daddy!castiel, emotional breakdown, literal guardian angels, non sexual infantilism, psychiatrist anna, retreat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-18
Updated: 2015-05-18
Packaged: 2018-03-31 04:11:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,217
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3963880
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SailorChibi/pseuds/SailorChibi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean was 100% positive that he would hate the retreat. But, after suffering a breakdown thanks to his high stress job, he agrees to go at the recommendation of his therapist - and it's true that he doesn't like it, not at first, because being treated like a baby is stupid and embarrassing and he's determined to just grit his teeth and get through it. Then he gets introduced to his own personal guardian angel, Cas.</p><p>And now that it's time for Dean to leave and be an adult and go back to his regular life, he doesn't want to.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Guardian Angel Therapy

**Author's Note:**

> This was a commission for an awesome friend of mine. It's also her birthday today so I guess I had good timing. I actually ended up really liking where this story went. It was a lot of fun to write and I hope it's just as an enjoyable to read.

None of this was Dean's idea. It's not his fault, either. In light of how he feels right now, after the long (but still too short) night he's spent on a bed that has no comforting bars around it, he thinks that's an important distinction to make. 

The truth is that this is all Sam's and Charlie's fault. Of course Dean was stressed. He's one of the top engineers at a major company, and he goes to work every day knowing that millions of dollars could potentially be wasted if the machines he and his colleagues spend months building don't work. Stress is just part of the job, and, while he's lost more than one co-worker to a bout of tears after Zachariah has one of his daily screaming fits, Dean prides himself on never having lost his own composure.

He maintains that the seventy-two hour long period where he locked himself in his apartment and sat stark naked in the bathtub and drank bottle after bottle of whiskey, with only a container of crunchy peanut butter for sustenance, was not a loss of composure. Zachariah has never gotten the satisfaction of seeing Dean cry. Sam and Charlie, who broke down the door at hour seventy-three, feel differently.

They dragged him to a psychiatrist, and the idea came from Doctor Anael - _call me Anna, Dean, there's no need to stand on formality when you and I are going to get to know each other very well_ \- who says that Dean has suffered from a breakdown and, after only a few sessions in which she'd had a laser focus on Dean's childhood, strongly suggested that a three month stay at this stupid retreat might be in Dean's best interest. 

He'd told her where she could put her breakdown. Anael responded by threatening to call the local hospital and have him admitted for extensive tests. Faced with the idea of spending the next God only knew how many years at the hands of angels who were probably just like Zachariah, Dean agreed to the retreat. After all, he could get in, suffer through the bare minimum in silence (because not even angels could make him like something so embarrassingly stupid), and then get out. 

That was exactly two months and thirty days ago. Now, on the morning of day thirty one with freedom lurking just around the corner, Dean hasn't slept all night and his temples are starting to throb with a headache as a result. His body's gotten used to a regular sleeping schedule: bedtime at 9:00pm with an early morning wake up at 7:00am, with a nap from 1:00pm - 3:00pm, and the sunlight makes his tired eyes feel gritty and strained.

He gives in to the inevitable and sits up, looking around the mostly empty room. There's his bed, tucked under the window, and that's about it, but just a couple of days ago this room looked completely different. There was a crib in the corner, a changing table against the far wall, a playpen right in the middle with lots of toys, and a rocking chair beside a bookcase that was crammed with stories. 

The empty room makes him hurt somewhere deep inside, and he hates that because he can't get rid of it. When he came here, he _relished_ the empty room. Couldn't imagine he'd ever want it to look different. But that was before he met Castiel, before a frigging angel walked into the room and looked at him with sad blue eyes and asked if Dean was sure that he wouldn't want to sit in the rocking chair for just a few minutes?

"Frigging angels," he mutter to himself, rubbing at his temples with his thumb and index finger, like the pressure alone will be enough to take the edge off.

By this time tomorrow morning, he'll be back at his old apartment. No doubt Sam will have cleaned the place from the top to bottom and stocked the cupboards and refrigerator with the kind of health food Dean abhors. He'll have one day to himself and then it will be back to work. He tries to imagine walking into his old office, sitting at his chair, bringing up blueprints, and can't.

More like getting reamed out by Zachariah before he even gets to his office, treated to an hour long rant that's just this side of a threat about wasting company time and money, and then getting the worst projects for the next three years straight. The thought of 14 hour days with no lunch, just a shitty sandwich from the cafeteria gulped down in five minutes, instead of homemade soup and a bottle is - 

"Stop it," Dean tells himself sternly. He's going home because his three months are up. For the past week, the angels have been getting him ready to return to normal life. Therapy is all said and done. He feeds himself, goes to bed when he wants to, and can use the toilet like any other self-respecting 32-year-old man, thank you very much.

He can do this. He _wants_ to do this. He throws his legs over the side of the bed and gets up, not bothering to make his bed. He gets dressed in the first clothing he pulls out of his luggage, old jeans and an even older t-shirt, and makes a half-assed attempt at combing his hair into something that won't make Charlie laugh hysterically when she sees him. Then he shoves his feet into his sneakers and leaves the cabin.

At one point, corny as it sounded, the sight of the retreat filled him with a sense of calm. Not when he first arrived, oh no, then it was like nails on a chalkboard because it was so boring and peaceful and there was _nothing to do_. But later, after he met Cas, then it was just... nice. There're lots of wide, open spaces, because angels like that, and every human gets their own cabin, but there's also communal spaces for those that are just arriving or who are ready to be in public. Dean never was, but Cas always just smiled so he thinks that's okay.

He puts his head down and fast walks his way down to the main building. It's been almost three months since he was in there, but it looks the same: soft colors, some toys for babies and little kids, and staffed with angels who can remain sweet and loving in the face of even the most outlandish humans, like Samandriel and Hester and Inias. The first day Dean arrived with Anael, Samandriel took one look at Dean's face and brought him a cup of hot chocolate. That he didn't smite Dean on the spot when Dean threw the hot chocolate in his face two minutes later is a testament to how much of an angel he really is.

Somehow, Dean's not surprised when Samandriel does the exact same thing today. He looks down at the mug of steaming chocolate that's being pushed into his hands and forces a smile. "I look that bad, huh?"

"You look fine," Samandriel says, maybe a little apprehensively, like he's not really sure what the right answer is. "But a little chocolate never hurt anyone."

"Except you. I never did say sorry for burning you."

Samandriel grins. "It's okay, Dean. You were just frustrated, and you were hurting, but you didn't have an outlet. I understand. We all do. I'm just glad that the treatment has helped you so much. Your soul has calmed down a lot."

"Good to hear," Dean says, because it sure as hell doesn't feel like it, and takes the cup of hot chocolate.

"It's amazing what a return to childhood can do for humans," Samandriel continues earnestly, the same cock and bull drivel every angel around here spouts off, except he really believes it. "Your lives are so short, but even in the span of a few years you become tainted with so much pain and taint and now you're just so much _lighter_. I really wish that more of you would agree to come to the retreat."

Dean just keeps smiling, even though his mouth is so tight it probably looks more like a grimace, because Samandriel doesn't seem to grasp that Dean's arm had been twisted. And, okay, he does feel better in some ways. He's not stressed to the point of jabbing a pen into Zachariah's eye, and he's more rested than he has been in years. But in other ways, he feels a hell of a lot worse.

"Samandriel, I asked you to bring Dean back as soon as he arrived. Anael has been waiting for him."

At the sound of a very familiar voice, Dean goes still and drops his gaze to the floor. Samandriel, on the other hand, winces guiltily and says, "I'm sorry, Castiel. I forgot."

"I'm sure Anael will forgive you. Please tell her that I will bring Dean back."

"Okay. Good luck, Dean." Samandriel's feet, clad in those weird brown sandals that Dean sees all over the damn place, run off. Dean keeps staring at the floor until new feet move into his vision. He recognizes those shoes. 

"Hello, Dean," Castiel says.

In the wake of the expectant pause that he's supposed to fill with an adult answer, Dean remains quiet. He can feel Castiel staring at him. It's possible that Castiel is staring right into his soul. Angels can do that, even if they're not supposed to because it's an invasion of privacy. Some rules are different here at the retreat, but not that one. Despite that, he's always felt like Castiel could see straight through him.

"Did you sleep well?" Castiel asks finally, long past the point when anyone else would've given up.

That requires an answer of some kind, so he shrugs.

"Dean, look at me." 

It's blatantly unfair, because Dean has spent the past two months learning to obey that voice and earning himself a pink bottom when he doesn't. His eyes flick up automatically to meet Castiel's gaze. There's a lot of concern in those blue eyes, but Dean manages to hold it together. And he keeps it together right up until the point where Castiel reaches out to touch his shoulder, as though checking to see if Dean is really Dean, and then he does the most embarrassing thing that he's done to date - which really, considering that he was entered into the retreat as a prime candidate for the baby level, is saying something.

He bursts into tears.

There's a lot of worried _fluttering_ when Dean starts crying. Even though it's his last day unless Anael declares him unfit for a return to his normal life, he's still technically a baby because he hasn't had his final appointment with her yet. Hester shows up and hustles him off into one of the private rooms, and she makes him sit down and drink his hot chocolate until he's a little bit calmer. But she doesn't touch him, and she certainly doesn't hug him, and all Dean wants in the world is for Cas to pick him up.

The door opens as though by magic, but it's not Cas. It's Anael. She walks confidently across the floor, banishes Hester with a flick of her wrist, and takes the now vacant seat next to Dean. She crosses her legs, balancing her tablet on her knee, and gives him a very kind smile. "Hello, Dean."

"Hi."

"How are you feeling?"

Dean shrugs.

"I need you to use your words, Dean," she says patiently. "Can you do that for me?"

"I'm fine."

"You don't look fine."

He shrugs again.

"Is there something you'd like to talk about?"

"No."

Anael sighs. It's not a sound that angels usually make. But he's noticed that she's a lot more comfortable in her vessel than most angels are. She actually breathes, for one thing, even though she doesn't have to. Not that he spends a lot of time watching her chest - though during his first couple of appointments, when he didn't want to talk, he did notice she had very nice breasts - but it's kind of hard not to notice when you spend so much time around vessels that don't.

"Dean," she says in the same tone of voice that most people would use to say 'sweetheart' or 'honey', "you know that today is your last day at the retreat. If I sign off on your discharge, you'll go back to your regular life."

His throat tightens a bit, and he sets the cup down before she sees that his hands are shaking. "I know."

"I'm told that you've been doing very well when it comes to preparing for that. You've been feeding yourself, getting dressed, going to the bathroom regularly, and you haven't tried to see Cas once over the past week. That's good progress. Sometimes it takes a lot longer than a few days to ease humans out of that mindset."

Dean blinks and nods. He doesn't like the way she talks about Cas so casually, but he knows they're friends. Knows that Anael specifically asked Cas to take him on as a patient. Just more evidence that, in the end, it's not really Sam's and Charlie's fault. It's Anael's fault, and for that he sort of wants to punch her in the face.

"Tomorrow you'll be back at your apartment. Zachariah has told me he's looking forward to having you return to your old job. As per the law, they've kept it open for you and I want you to contact me if he gives you any trouble. I know you didn't want to come here, so the retreat will be just a bad memory for you. You won't have to think of any of us ever again."

"Yeah," he says, and a couple more tears spill over.

Anael throws her tablet across the room. "For the love of - you are the most emotionally repressed human I have ever met. Jesus _Christ_ , Winchester, would you just admit that you don't want to leave!"

"Did you just blaspheme?" Dean says, staring at her in shock.

"Oh Father," Anael says, burying her head in her hands. She sits like that for a few seconds, shaking her head, then stands up. She squares her shoulders, plants her hands on Dean's shoulders, and leans in until their faces are inches apart. 

"Listen to me very carefully, Dean, okay? Despite what you might think, I didn't send you here because I wanted to torture you. Nor did I send you here because I thought it was the place you would hate the most. You had a _horrible_ childhood. Most people would not be able to function after your childhood, okay? But somehow you do, and you are, and I commend you for that, I really do.

"But Dean, you weren't living. You were killing yourself. You'd have been dead of a heart attack before you were 40, and all because you have no idea how to let someone else step in. _That's_ why I sent you here. Because you deserve to have someone take care of you, and love you, and make you happy. And I knew Cas could do that for you."

Dean's mind is completely blank. He doesn't know what to do or say. He just stares at her. 

"Cas loves you," Anael says very slowly, emphasizing each word. "He went ahead and broke all the rules for guardian angels and he wants you to stay. He wants to keep you. You, Dean Winchester. The angel Castiel wants to keep you, Dean Winchester. Is this getting through your thick head yet?"

"But... I'm supposed to go back," Dean says dumbly.

"I know. What I'm trying to tell you is, you don't have to if you don't want to." Anael studies him for a moment, then straightens up. "Cas!" she barks at the door. "Get your ass in here already."

The door opens immediately and Cas walks in, looking torn between worry and trying to pretend like he wasn't eavesdropping. Dean has to grip the chair he's sitting on to keep from throwing himself into Cas's arms. 

"Talk to your baby," Anael commands, pointing at Dean. "Because so help me, Castiel, if he leaves and has another breakdown next week - and I am telling you that's what will happen if you let him go - I will smite your ass so hard you'll wish you'd taken Crowley up on his offer to be the Queen of Hell."

"Anna!" Cas says, giving her a horrified look, and she just glares harder.

"Talk. To. Him," she grits out.

"Cas?" Dean says, completely lost, and both of them turn to look at him. Cas skirts past Anael, giving her lots of space, and then crouches down in front of Dean. Even though it puts Cas on a lower level, the position makes Dean feel like a little kid.

"I'd like you to answer a question for me, Dean," he says. "Do you want to go back?"

"I..." Dean trails off, because he knows what the punishment for lying is, but he's not really a baby anymore, and he knows what the right answer is but it's not really the honest answer.

"Dean," Cas says. "Look at me. Do you want to go back?"

Dean looks, and the words - everything he's been trying to hide - just fall right out. "No. I hate my job. Zachariah yells all the time and it's not fun anymore. I never see Sam since he went to school, or Charlie since she moved away, and my apartment smells and there's green fuzz growing over my bed and it makes me cough and I know I'm supposed to want to go back because I'm not a baby but please don't make me go, Daddy -"

Right about the time when he runs out of breath and starts crying again, Cas finally hugs him. He pulls Dean right off the chair and down into his lap, wrapping arms and wings around Dean until Dean is surrounded in him. He clings to Cas in turn, shaking all over, gasping on the sobs he keeps trying and failing to hold back. 

"You don't have to leave," Cas murmurs a few minutes later. "You can stay here with me."

That doesn't make any sense. Dean knows how the retreat operates, and Cas works as a guardian angel. That means he gets assigned to tend to a specific human for any given length of time, and his job is to treat each human like a child as per their individualized treatment plans. As soon as a human is discharged, Cas gets a new one and the cycle starts all over again. By tomorrow morning, Cas will have a new human to take care of.

The thought is gutting.

"No, baby, no. I've spoken to Gabriel. I'm hardly the first angel to bond with a human. He agreed that I can work with Hester as a greeter, if I want," Cas says. His hands are warm and steady as he rubs Dean's back. "Or I can work in the communal buildings, helping out with the humans who aren't ready to be immersed in the treatment yet. Remember Balthazar and Hannah? I can work with them, too, and you can come to work with me."

"But you like being a guardian angel," Dean whispers.

"I did like it, but that was before I met you. It was just a job to me, but you... you're _mine_ , if you'll stay." Cas's grip gets so tight that it hurts. "You won't have to be a baby all the time if you don't want to. We can talk about it later. But please, Dean. Don't leave me."

Dean closes his eyes and presses his face into Cas's collarbone. Part of him - the part that fought tooth and nail against this three months ago - can't believe this is happening. But it's drowned out by the rest of him that has been dreading this moment. He doesn't want to go. He misses the bottles, the naps, the comfort and security from being carried, even the stupid diapers. 

"Yeah, okay."

\--

The sun isn't quite over the horizon when Castiel stirs out of his meditative state. He stretches his wings, flush with renewed grace, and walks over to the crib, peering down at the slumbering baby inside. A fond smiles crosses his face. He knows better than to try waking Dean up this early; it never goes over well, and all he'll end up with is a very cranky baby that is determined to make everyone else suffer too.

Humming softly, he carefully scoops Dean up and carries him over to the changing table. Dean fusses, screwing his face up and kicking his legs in protest, but Castiel is an old hand at this by now. He deftly grips Dean's ankles with one hand and strips the dirty diaper off with the other. It's cheating to use grace as a cleaning implement, but infinitely easier when Dean is halfway to a temper tantrum, and in less than a minute Dean is in a clean diaper.

"There you go, all done," Castiel coos, chucking Dean on the chin. Hazy green eyes, fringed with long lashes, pout up at him. He bites back a grin and foregoes swapping Dean's pajamas for clothing by hand, opting instead to do it the old-fashioned way with a little more grace. Being able to cheat every now and then is one of the (many) nice things about having a baby of his own.

He picks up the diaper bag and then lifts Dean into his arms before spreading his wings. They fly to the closest communal building. A bunch of new humans arrived yesterday, which is why Castiel was asked to report for work earlier than normal. He was on hand to greet some of them along with Hester and Samandriel, but Dean was having a day where he wanted to be big. This is the first time where most of them will see a baby.

"Morning, Cassie," Balthazar says when Castiel walks into the room. He's sitting at a table with Hannah and Rachel. All of them are drinking coffee.

"Good morning," Castiel says, taking a seat and shifting Dean until they're both comfortable. Dean grumbles a little until Castiel gives him a pacifier, which settles him right down. 

"He's so cute," Rachel says. "You're so lucky."

Castiel shoots her a smile. "I know."

They sit and drink coffee in silence until the clock strikes 7am. Not long after that, the first of the humans begin to make their way into the communal building in search of food. As a whole, they're nervous and uncertain and so wound up with stress or pain or both that Castiel aches for them. He holds Dean a little bit tighter, infinitely grateful that his baby isn't out there suffering too.

More than a few of the humans look curiously at Castiel and Dean. Castiel pretends not to notice, but silently asks Hannah to fetch him a bottle. She does, but only because Dean has every angel at the center wrapped around his finger. She's gone for a couple of minutes, and in that time the dozen tables fill up and more and more humans are openly staring.

"They're so subtle," Balthazar mutters, amused, and Rachel kicks him under the table.

"This is a good thing," she scolds. "We _want_ them to see that it's a good thing. Some of them respond very well after seeing Dean."

"Yeah, but it makes the rest that much harder to tame."

Rachel sticks her nose in the air. "Those ones would have been hard to tame either way and you know it."

"You're just whipped and want to spend all day cooing over Dean instead of doing your job."

She kicks him again and Balthazar yelps.

Hannah comes back and gives Castiel a bottle filled with a specialized formula. It looks and tastes like milk sweetened with honey, but it has all of the nutrients, vitamins and calories necessary to sustain a human adult. He gently pries Dean off his neck, ignoring the sleepy whimper that tugs at his heart, and hooks the pacifier out of Dean's mouth. Before Dean can start crying, he replaces it with the nipple of the bottle.

Dean blinks a couple of times in tired confusion. Castiel tips the bottle up and squeezes it lightly, just enough so that a few drops ooze onto Dean's tongue and entice him to want more. It works, and Dean starts drinking with more enthusiasm. He's a messy eater, formula dribbling out of the side of his mouth when he tries to drink too fast, and noisy too, snuffling and slurping.

He's adorable.

Castiel doesn't need to look up to know that every eye in the room is now on him and Dean: some of the humans will be curious, while others will be revolted. Nor does he need Balthazar's muttered comment to know that he looks absolutely besotted. He doesn't care about any of it. The way that Dean's soul resonates with pure happiness during these moments is the only thing that matters.

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me on [tumblr](http://tsuki-chibi.tumblr.com/).


End file.
